


they say you gotta stay hungry (i'm just about starving tonight)

by evewithanapple



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Drinking, Danger/Adrenaline Kink, F/F, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evewithanapple/pseuds/evewithanapple
Summary: A late-night YouTube binge sets Lucy on the trail of a vampire with seduction on her mind.





	they say you gotta stay hungry (i'm just about starving tonight)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [merryghoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryghoul/gifts).



It started with a YouTube video.

Lucy had been up since six, and it was past midnight now. She should go to bed, but her shift didn’t start until ten-thirty. For hours, she’d been aimlessly clicking from video to video, browsing titles like “REAL GHOST CAUGHT ON TAPE,” “10 CREEPY Unexplained Ghost Sightings,” and “Amazing REAL Ghost Video.” From there, she drifts to “demon possessed girl,” then “Proof That Kentucky Wolfman Is Real!” Finally, around one-thirty, she turns autoplay on and watches as the next video rolls onto her screen: “REAL vampire lady – NSFW!!!”

It starts as surveillance footage of an alleyway – one behind a diner or club, if she had to guess. The timecode juddering along the upper right-hand corner marks the time as four in the morning. A woman strolls along the side of the building, hands stuffed in the pockets of her hoodie, head bowed. The camera wavers a little, lines of static running across the picture, and when it refocuses, there’s another figure onscreen. The video quality sucks, so it’s hard to make too much out – the second person is a woman wearing a skirt that flaps around her ankles with a duster-style jacket that cuts off at her knees. This new person puts an arm out, stopping the first girl in her tracks. She might say something; with the low resolution, it’s hard to tell. The first girl starts to move to one side; the second one blocks her. Whatever words are exchanged, they didn’t seem to be too heated. The second figure turns and steps lightly away down the alley, with the first one following in her wake.

Resting her hand on her chin, Lucy groans. What was this, a screamer? Nothing scary had happened, nothing even remotely ghostly or vampiric. What a waste of time. She’s about to hit the “next video” button when the screen changes, so suddenly that she has to blink before she really believes it. This new scene is in a bright red room, well-lit and crisply rendered. There’s a couch – black, sharply set off against the red of the walls – and a woman sitting on it, knees together and legs splayed out. She’s wearing a hoodie, like the first girl from the earlier video; that’s the only discernable connection between the two. Lucy bites her lip in spite of herself, leaning in closer to the screen. Is this where things get good?

A second woman appears onscreen, coming in from the left and sitting down next to the first one on the couch. She’s got the same long skirt on – it _is_ the same pair, Lucy’s sure now – but with the better video quality, Lucy can see that it’s slit up to her thigh, shifting as she seats herself. This video also has no sound, so she can’t hear what’s said as the second woman leans in close to the first one, pushes the shoulder of her hoodie aside, mouths at her earlobe. It’s starting out like a standard porno – Lucy’s seen a few, she knows – but there’s still that first section hovering over the proceedings, promising something darker at hand. She digs her fingers into her legs, waiting.

The woman in the skirt lays a few soft kisses to her paramour’s shoulder and neck, nuzzling as Hoodie Girl shudders under her touch. The shift is almost imperceptible if you’re not looking for it, kisses turned open-mouthed and a bit toothy – but Lucy’s watching closely. Close enough to see the tiny trickle of blood emerge from beneath the woman – _vampire’s_ – lips, running down until it blooms red across the grey hoodie. Hoodie Girl tilts her head back, moaning. It’s not a moan of pain. Lucy can tell, even without the audio; she can read it on her face. The vampire reaches over to cup her left breast as her victim slips a hand down under the waistband of her jeans, and –

-the video cuts off.

Lucy sits back in her chair, swearing softly. The countdown icon appears on the black screen, indicating that another video is about to start; in a fit of irritation, she hits the power button on the monitor, sending the entire screen crashing into blackness. What _was_ that video? Where had it come from? Someone had edited it, that was for certain; someone had cut it together so that the viewer could make all the necessary inferences. Was it viral marketing? Maybe, but there’d been no teaser at the end to indicate what she was being sold. Frowning, she turns the monitor back on and clicks on the username underneath the video. But Youtube user xxsatansexslavexx’s profile offers nothing in the way of usable information; this is the only video they have up, and the slots for their name/location/interests have all been left blank.

All right, what about the video itself? She hits the backspace button and lets it run again, leaning in close to the screen to try and catch any details she may have missed the first time around. The security camera section is worse than useless; it was filmed in 480p (if that) and the image is hopelessly pixelated. The second half is easier to look at, but offers little more in the way of identifying detail. The couch they’re sitting on is generic black leather, the kind you could pick up at any upscale furniture store; there’s no other unique identifiers in the screen, apart from a Chat Noir poster sitting about halfway up the wall behind them. It’s all a blank slate to her; she knows that a skilled researcher could pull information out of the empty field of red before her, but she doesn’t have the tools to dig in any deeper. For that, she needs to call in the big guns.

 

* * *

 

“You’re absolutely fucking crazy,” Tim says to her over the phone. “A total goddamn lunatic.”

“Uh-huh,” Lucy says, only half listening. She’d sent Tim the video link and her request for more detail early that morning, before heading off for her mid-afternoon shift. She’d smiled through insulting customers, her manager’s cursing, and the one regular whose hand always creeps around the back of her knee as she’s serving him, clinging to the tantalizing promise of what Tim will have found by the time she gets off work. She’d never once doubted he would pull the data she needed; she’d seen him and his internet vigilante friends track down creeps in homemade porn videos just from the shade of their beige carpet. The video might have been a blank slate to her, but to him, it was a gold mine of potential information. “So, what did you find?”

On the other end of the line, Tim sighs heavily. “You’re sure you want to know?”

“ _Tim_.”

“Right, right, fine. Okay.” There’s a tapping sound as he fiddles with his keyboard. “First things first, the person whose channel you watched the video on wasn’t the person who made it. They scraped it off another account, which was apparently a promo channel for this website called At First Bite. I ran the metadata on them, and they seem to be based here in Toronto, so I made a lucky guess and figured that the videos were both filmed here. The first clip could have been from any back alley in the city, but I could work out from the buildings in the background that they were kitty-corner from a restaurant called Alo’s. There’s only four of them in the city, so I narrowed it down from there based on the type of brick. There’s one on the Danforth across from a bunch of cafes, so that’s _probably_ not it - “

Lucy sighs loudly.

“Fine. Ugh, if this is the kind of respect you show for my hard work, I don’t know why I bother.”

“Because I’m paying you,” she says. “So cut to the chase. Where is it?”

More tapping noises. “I can’t pinpoint the exact building, because I can’t tell from the interior video, but there’s a goth club called Little Sanctuary on Queen West. I’d say that’s your best bet.” He pauses. “So, just how much of a suicide mission is this, anyway? Because if the police call and tell me they found your body dumped in an alley, I’m not telling them shit.”

“I prefer it that way,” Lucy says, then adds “thanks, Tim,” in the name of being a good sport before ending the call and tossing her phone on the kitchen counter.

She’s never been to a goth club before – not for lack of interest, per se, but more because she’s never seen the appeal in letting sweaty guys grind on her just because they’re wearing Bauhaus t-shirts and nose rings. Having a purpose for being there, though, casts the entire prospect in a much more tantalizing light. She rifles through her closet, casting aside her plain white work t-shirts until she finds something more suitable – a dress, the only one she owns, with a neckline that plunges down between her breasts and offers no obstruction whatsoever to anyone trying to get at her neck. It’s black, which is about as goth as her wardrobe gets. It’ll do.

When she walks in, she’s hit immediately with the sharp reek of sweat, so thick that she nearly gags. The floor is packed with exactly the kind of people she’d always envisioned in a place like Little Sanctuary. Silver chains abound. So do crosses, which seem to Lucy to somewhat defeat the purpose – but then, most of the people here didn’t come for the same reasons she did. Nearly everyone on the floor has black hair, natural or otherwise. Vinyl battles with velvet as the most overused clothing choice, all black or dark red.

“Posers,” she mutters, and heads to the bar.

From a barstool her vantage point is much better for casing out the floor, but there’s still the small matter of seeing through the mass of people to the one person – vampire – she actually wants to find. Nearly everyone is in platform heels, so even perched on the stool, she has to crane her neck to see over everyone’s heads. She knows what face she’s looking for, obviously, but it’s hard to zero in on individual features in the crowd. The clothes would be easier to pick out, but who’s to say she’d be wearing the same outfit? It’s all a crapshoot.

She sighs, spinning around on the stool. “Gin and tonic,” she says to the bartender, then reconsiders. “Actually, just juice.” Would alcohol in her bloodstream make her more or less attractive as a prospective meal? She hasn’t had a chance to find out yet. If she does find her potential blood-drinking paramour and the answer is yes, she’ll happily down as many gin and tonics as will make her tasty. But better not try it until then.

Someone slides onto the barstool next to her, drumming manicured nails against the counter. “Water, please,” says a smooth voice, and the woman – it is a woman – pushes back the hood of her coat, letting long auburn hair spill out. Lucy pauses, fingers uncurling from around her juice bottle. She recognizes that hair. Recognizes the fingernails too, come to think of it. Surely it can’t be this easy - ?

“Something catch your eye?” the woman says, swivelling to face her, and Lucy almost swallows her tongue. It is her; there’s no doubt about it now. It’s her, and she’s eyeing Lucy up and down with a faintly amused look that says she knows just what’s on Lucy’s mind.

“I – it’s –“ Oh, hell; she’d put all this thought into how to find her, and now that she’s done it, she’s got no clue what to say. “Something I was looking for, actually. Something – someone – I saw online.”

“Mmmhmm?” The woman stirs her drink with one long fingernail. “And you came all this way looking for them? Wow.”

“They seemed worth it,” Lucy blurts out. “That is – I was intrigued.” Belatedly, she thinks to add, “I’m Lucy. What’s your name?”

“A name is a powerful thing,” the woman says smoothly. “Not something to just give away on a whim.” Lucy thinks she’s blown it, but then the woman adds, “You can call me Tanith, if you feel the need to call me anything.”

“Well,” Lucy says, feeling more than a little reckless, “if I want to see more of you, I’ll have to call you something. Won’t I?”

Tanith throws her head back and laughs. It’s a good laugh, deep and rich. “I suppose you will,” she says. “And this seeing more of me, did you intend to do that tonight, or . . . ?”

“If I can,” Lucy says. Her palms are sweating; she wipes them off on her knees. “There’s a room here, isn’t there? There was, in – when I saw it online.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Tanith says. “So that’s what you saw. I did wonder.” She slides off her stool and holds out a hand. “Come along, then, if you’d like to see the room.”

Lucy blinks at her once, twice, and then her brain catches up to the words coming out of Tanith’s mouth, and she nearly trips and falls in her haste to climb off of the stool. “Yes,” she says, “yes.” And she lets Tanith lead her away from the dance floor.

She takes her around the corner, where the bathrooms are, and for a wild moment Lucy wonders if they’re going to fuck in a toilet stall. But then she turns again, pushing aside a black velvet curtain (velvet everywhere, she thinks; was Tanith a transplant from the 1800s or something? Or maybe that was down to the person who owned the club) and then a steel door and into a new room – the room, the one from the video. Tanith gestures at the sofa, and Lucy sinks down automatically.

“So,” Tanith says. She’s standing behind the couch, in front of the Le Chat Noir poster; Lucy has to twist around to see her properly. “You saw me on the internet.”

“On YouTube,” Lucy says. “T- my, uh, computer guy says someone stole the video. From At First Bite?”

“Oh, I’m sure they did.” Tanith pulls what looks like an antique cigarette holder from her pocket and begins to roll it back and forth between her fingers, almost like a nervous tic. “At First Bite was meant to advertise the club’s more underground activities, but I told Eustace – that’s the owner – that it wouldn’t do any good unless he got it to a wider audience. I’m not surprised he chose YouTube.”

“You let yourself be filmed,” Lucy says. She rubs her ankles together under her dress. “And the other woman, she was . . .”

“She’s quite all right, if that’s what your wondering,” Tanith says. She still has that faintly amused look. “I don’t require a great deal of sustenance, and I’m not a glutton. She was paid well and went on her way afterwards. She may be out on the floor now, actually. But you’re similarly in no danger from me.” She raises one eyebrow. “Unless that was your goal . . . ?”

“No - ooooooo,” Lucy says slowly. _Was_ that her goal? She hadn’t really thought it through, beyond a vague vision of the evening ending in blood and bliss. She didn’t actually want to die, but the prospect of being in danger – just skimming along the edge, capable of falling but able to pull back if she wanted to – was . . . appealing. “I mean. If you did – kill me – that would be kind of dumb, wouldn’t it? Free food, and you’d have wasted it all in one go.”

“Hmm.” Tanith tilts her head to one side, appraising Lucy. “Sensible of you.”

“But if you didn’t,” Lucy says, “I could come back. As many times as you – or I – wanted.”

“So you could.” Tanith slips suddenly around the couch and seats herself next to Lucy; she moves so fast, so unexpectedly, it’s hard for Lucy’s eyes to track. “If you wanted. I prefer my partners willing.”

“I would,” Lucy says. “Want, that is.”

“Hmm,” Tanith says again. “Well, we’ll see.” And with that, her mouth is on Lucy’s, and all thoughts of the future are gone.

She’s a strong kisser, a demanding one – her tongue is in Lucy’s mouth almost immediately, one hand firm and restraining on the back of Lucy’s neck. She doesn’t mind at all. This was what she wanted. She leans into the kiss, mouth open, letting her knees fall apart and bunching one hand in her dress, hiking it up to mid-thigh.

Tanith pulls back, laughing. “Impatient, aren’t you?”

“You get to do this all the time,” Lucy retorts. “This is my first.”

“So it is. But – “ She puts a hand on Lucy’s knee – “I find it’s far more pleasurable if one takes one’s time. And I do have the upper hand, so far as experience goes.” Her hand slides up, closing on Lucy’s upper thigh, and she resumes her kissing. This time, she diverts her attention from Lucy’s mouth to kiss her cheeks, her ear, her throat. Lucy tenses, thinking, _this must be it_ ; but rather than sink her teeth in, Tanith just keeps on kissing lower and lower. She dips her head between Lucy’s breasts, pushes the skimpy fabric out of the way to tongue at a nipple – Lucy gasps – then draws back again. “Dress off. Lie down.”

Lucy scrambles to comply. She hadn’t bothered with a bra or underwear (god, why _would_ she?) and so as soon as the dress is off, she’s naked and spread out on the couch. Tanith lets her gaze travel over Lucy’s curves, following her eyes with the touch of a single finger running across Lucy’s stomach. “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Lucy says. “Please – “

Tanith dips down to kiss her again, down her stomach and then up her inner thighs. She nips lightly, which makes Lucy tense under her, but still she doesn’t bite. When she makes her way up to Lucy’s cunt, kisses followed by probing licks, Lucy whimpers, drawing one leg over Tanith’s shoulder to hold her in place. Tanith scrapes her fingers along the underside of Lucy’s leg, then draws back again. Lucy whines.

“Shh.” She’s still running a hand up and down Lucy’s leg. “Tell me, have you ever climaxed more than once in a single encounter?”

“I’m _about_ to,” Lucy bites out, “and you haven’t even – “

She covers Lucy’s mouth with her free hand. “Hush. What I’m asking you is, would bringing you to orgasm now spoil the evening, as it were? How long would you need to recover?”

Lucy whines again, squirming under Tanith’s touch. When her mouth is freed again, she says, “I don’t know. It depends on what you’re doing.”

“Very well then,” Tanith says, then leans in again. “I won’t make you wait too long. Just in case – “ She closes her mouth over Lucy’s thigh again, but this time there’s a hot, sharp stabbing sensation where mouth meets skin. Lucy moans, eyes rolling back in her head. She can feel it – she’s given blood before, she knows what it normally feels like, but it was nothing, _nothing_ like this. She can feel her skin pulsing under Tanith’s tongue, her whole body throbbing in time to her suckling, and a little trickle of blood running down her leg from the point where Tanith is biting her. She grips one of her breasts, squeezing and rubbing at her nipple, and slides her other hand down between her legs to toy with herself. It only takes the barest touch in concert with Tanith’s mouth, and then she’s coming so hard, the world goes white.

She’s aware of Tanith pulling her mouth away, sitting up and running two fingers across her chin to wipe away the stray drops of blood. “Goodness,” she says. “You _are_ eager.” Lucy’s breathing too hard to reply.

“So long as I’m here,” she continues, “I may as well – “ And she leans in to bite down again. Lucy cries out, hands scrabbling uselessly on the smooth leather of the couch. Dimly, she wonders how Tanith, or the club owners, or whoever’s responsible for the room keeps the upholstery from being ruined with bloodstains, but that’s not really her problem. Not when Tanith is still lapping at her thigh, and her whole body is on fire. She thinks she could probably come again just from this, but then Tanith draws back again. “No more,” she says. Lucy opens her mouth to protest, but Tanith raises a hand to stop her. “If you don’t wish to die,” she says, “or be very, very sick, it’s better that I stop now.”

“Oh,” Lucy says in a small voice. Is it over, then? “You could still keep going. I don’t care.”

“Perhaps not, but _I_ do.” Tanith looks stern. “I’m not in the business of indulging suicidal fantasies, whether you acknowledge them or not.”

“Fine.” Lucy lapses back against the couch, pouting. “So we’re done?”

“Oh, you dear, petulant child.” Tanith moves up to lean over her, a hand braced on either side of her head. “We will not be done for a long time yet.” And she leans in to kiss Lucy again, all tongue and teeth, just like earlier. Lucy relaxes instantly into the touch, hitching her hips up so that she can wrap her legs around Tanith’s waist and hump against her. This time, instead of scrabbling on the couch, the hangs onto Tanith’s shoulders, and it’s _much_ better; now she has leverage, and a measure of control. She comes for a second time that way, slamming their bodies together so hard that she thinks she might bruise. Maybe Tanith will as well. Do vampires bruise?

“There you go,” Tanith says against her neck, “you didn’t have to wait so long after all.” She draws back, pausing. “Would you prefer to continue?”

“Um.” In the afterglow of two orgasms, her body feels wrung-out and shaky. “Not right now, I don’t think. But you - ?”

Tanith chuckles. “Never mind me.” She climbs off Lucy, stepping to the side. She’d never even taken her dress off, Lucy realizes. “You may spend the night here, if you need to recuperate, but you will need to be out by morning. The cleaning staff have a job to do.”

“Uh-huh,” Lucy says. She’s a little dazed. “And later, if I want to find you again?”

Tanith walks to the door, smiling at her. Her mouth is stained deep red. “Then you know where to find me, don’t you?” And then she’s gone.

Lucy slumps, boneless, against the couch. Her head’s a bit cloudy, but not so much that she’ll need to crash here overnight – she can grab an Uber and sleep it all off at home. And Tanith’s right, she does know where to find her. Excitement prickles in her mind, stirring underneath the lassitude. She can come back whenever she feels like it; Tanith all but said so. This is, if not her place, then at least a place she can retreat to when the tedium of day-to-day life grows too oppressive.

Something buzzes on the floor, underneath the folds of her abandoned dress, and she frowns for a moment before remembering her phone. She’d put it and her wallet into a pocket, not wanting to bother with a purse. She climbs off the couch and digs through the dress until she finds it. There’s just the one text message waiting, from Tim. HOPE YOU’RE NOT DEAD.

She grins, thumb hovering over the reply button. What should she say? It’s tempting to send something that would make his ears turn red, but she’s feeling merciful. Instead, she taps out, NO BUT I WOULD HAVE DIED HAPPY.

There’s only a moment’s lag between that and Tim’s next reply. GOOD FOR YOU.

She chuckles, getting to her feet and pulling her dress on over her head. The next time she sees him, she’ll give him the full story – and maybe a bonus. After all, he’s more than earned it.


End file.
